


Thantophobia

by hexicity



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic, everything is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexicity/pseuds/hexicity
Summary: Thantophobia : the fear of losing someone you love.(or, where magnus has a birthday party, someone gets injured, and everyone else realizes how much they care)





	Thantophobia

In his several centuries of experience, Magnus Bane knows not to celebrate too soon. 

Nothing is permanent, that much is clear. It may be difficult for mortals to see it, and it’s not really their faults. It took Magnus maybe a full century to realize that getting too comfortable too soon always leads to rude awakenings. 

So even though Valentine is apparently gone, safe and locked up by the Clave, Magnus isn’t about to sit back and take down his wards. He knows better. 

“When’s the last time you had a birthday and didn’t throw a party?” Alec presses, and Magnus closes his eyes with a pained groan. He really wants to change the topic.

“A while.” Magnus admits, taking a long sip of his champagne and cursing himself for inviting nosy Shadowhunters over for dinner. 

“An exact number.” Isabelle demands. 

“Like two-hundred years.” Magnus says firmly, then recalls the year not long ago when Ragnor had pissed off a powerful fairy and ended up with bright pink skin rather than his usual green, causing Magnus to cancel his party and engage in a frustrating and hilarious night of trying different spells. “Actually, maybe about ten. Sometimes something comes up.”

“But nothing is coming up right now!” Clary insists. “Everything is fine! There hasn’t even been many demon attacks in the past two weeks, and even those are routine, right?” 

Alec nods his agreement. It’s sweet that his friends want him to celebrate his birthday, it really is, but Magnus can’t do it. He can’t risk it. 

“Look, I know that I throw tremendous parties, probably the best in New York.” Magnus allows with a proud smile. “But after everything that just happened I just--I don’t want to risk anything. Everyone in the city knows when I’m having a party and everyone knows that you all will attend.” 

“But Valentine is--” Isabelle tries, but Magnus continues. 

“Valentine had people working for him. Followers, people who agreed with him. And they’re still out there. And they’re probably angry.” 

“I agree.” Jace speaks up for the first time since the debate began, his tone serious. The soft guitar strumming from Simon stops as the vampire and everyone else looks at Jace, trying to gauge his emotions. “I don’t think we should act like it never happened.” 

“Guys.” Simon sits up a little and sets his guitar aside. He looks serious too, but a tiny smile graces his lips when he looks at Jace. “I know what you mean, and I know it’s scary. But we can’t just live in fear because of Valentine, you know? And I’m not saying we shouldn’t be careful, we should still be vigilant and all that, but he wants us to be miserable. And we shouldn’t just give in to it, right?” 

“Exactly.” Alec reaffirms, looking at Magnus again. “If it makes you feel better, we can put the wards up. Keep out any other Shadowhunters. But please have your party.” 

Magnus rolls his eyes. “You all just want free alcohol.” 

“Cake, actually.” Clary says lightly. 

Magnus glances across the small square of couches and armchairs to Jace, who’s looking at Simon with a sort of curiosity and confusion, which Magnus has observed several times on Jace’s face in the past two weeks. Always directed at Simon, oddly enough. 

“Jace,” he says softly, “are you okay with this?” 

Jace shifts his eyes from Simon to Magnus, and there’s clear anxiety on his face. But there’s also a shimmer of hope in his mismatched eyes, hope for the ability to breathe again and not have to continuously check over his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” He says after a beat. “As long as we’re careful.” 

Careful is an understatement. Magnus triple checks his wards, hires some of Raphael’s clan to stand in as security, and steers clear of drinking the entire night. Just in case. 

It’s a good party. His stress-decorating paid off, because the loft looks better than it has in months. There’s confetti stuck permanently in the air above his guests’ heads, sparkling golds and silvers that shimmer like the night sky. People are spread out on his white leather sectionals, appetizers sitting on floating glass tables, and there’s music drifting from the stage where Simon happily sings. 

“Thank you for letting his band play.” Clary nudges Magnus and casts an affectionate look toward the stage. “He’s really excited.” 

“He sounds good.” Magnus shrugs. “And a tuning spell made the rest of the band sound good, too, so it all works out very well.” 

Her laugh makes a bit more of the unease in Magnus’ chest loosen. So far, two hours into the party, everything has been fine. The ward shimmers securely around the perimeter of the loft and the security, who he’s checked with at least ten times, have reported nothing suspicious. 

Maybe they were right, Magnus thinks. Maybe things are fine. 

“Where’s my boyfriend?” Magnus chirps suddenly, and Clary looks surprised by his sudden shift in mood. She directs him to the bar, where Alec is seated beside Raphael with a look of discomfort on his face. “Oh dear. I better go rescue him.” 

“Happy birthday.” Raphael says the moment Magnus arrives. “Why are the wards up?” 

“Thank you, my always cheerful friend.” Magnus taps his glass against Raphael’s, which sits on the bar completely untouched. “And it’s just a precaution. Some of us--”

“You and Jace.” Alec supplies. 

“--were a little hesitant to have such a display after what just happened.”

“But it’s going fine.” Alec reminds him, tugging on Magnus’ sleeve to get his attention. For once, Alec is the calm one. His hazel eyes are steady and his face is content, and it’s contagious enough to make Magnus smile. “Like I said it would. Please stop worrying and enjoy your birthday.” 

Magnus presses a kiss to Alec’s forehead. “It’s not like I don’t throw a party every other month, darling.” 

“It’s what makes you happy.” Alec answers steadily. “Who cares if you do it a lot?”

“Certainly not my drunk guests.” Magnus responds, pulling away to survey the rapidly intoxicated crowd. The drunken dancing halts suddenly when Simon’s song ends, and he moves toward the mic. 

“Hey, we’re going to take a quick break.” Simon tells the crowd. “Also, happy birthday Magnus! You’re the best!”

“Aww.” Magnus puts a hand over his heart and watches his little vampire bound off the stage, his glee basically radiating off of him so much that it’s visible from where Magnus stands across the room. “How sweet.” 

“Remember when you said that Downworlders are like your family?” Alec asks. “What about Simon? Because he’s a Downworlder, technically, but he’s--I don’t know. He’s really a mundane, isn’t he?” 

“What do you mean?” Magnus responds, looking back at Alec with his eyebrows arched. “He’s as much of a Downworlder as I am.”

“Well he’s a vampire, yeah, but he doesn’t want to be. And he can be in the sun now. He doesn’t get involved with his clan, or with other Downworlders other than you and Luke, maybe Maia. It’s like he doesn’t want to be a part of that community.”

And, okay, Magnus doesn’t expect Alec to be able to understand the concept. He can’t, because he’s a Shadowhunter and he has been since birth. He can’t possibly comprehend what it must feel like to one day be a mundane, with homework and a heartbeat, and then the next day be exiled from home and craving blood. 

Magnus is about to explain this to Alec, who doesn’t mean any harm but still isn’t doing any good by analyzing Simon’s part of a community that he himself isn’t in, when he feels a sudden jolt. A quick burst of light leaves the room intensely bright for one moment before dulling again, and the party guests blink at the air around them and murmur to themselves. 

“What--?” Alec begins, just as Raphael slides from his seat and looks at Magnus with dark, narrowed eyes and a scowl pulling his lips downward. 

“The wards are down.” 

Magnus looks helplessly out the windows where the purplish shine of the wards are indeed fading away. His body jumps into action before his mind can catch up, his legs maneuvering him through the crowd while his hands begin working on pulling the magic from around him and channeling it into new wards. 

It takes a moment, partly because of the strength of the wards needed and partly because he can’t focus, but soon enough the wards are once again surrounding the loft protectively. 

“There, see? It’s okay--” Alec tries to reassure him, striding behind Magnus hurriedly as he continues to move through the crowd. 

“It’s not fine, Alec! That doesn’t just happen, someone took down the wards. God, I knew we shouldn’t have done this, how stupid could I have been to let--”

“You couldn’t have known--”

“But I did! I told you, I told you Valentine wasn’t over--”

“It might not even be him!” Alec exclaims with an abrupt yank on Magnus’ arm. He forcibly turns Magnus to look at him, and even the sight of his boyfriend’s face fails to calm Magnus down. “Hey, it’s fine. You got it up right away, nothing could’ve happened in that amount of time.” 

Something about the way Alec had looked five minutes ago, with his reassuring eyes and certain expression, differs severely from how he looks now. Now he doesn’t look so sure. 

“Someone could’ve gotten in.” Magnus insists, searching the crowd desperately. 

“Don’t you think your security would’ve told you if a Shadowhunter other than us just walked in?” Alec reasons, and that helps Magnus relax just slightly. He completely forgot about the security guards. And Alec is right, they’d have reported right away. 

Alec seems to be able to sense this shift in Magnus, because he smiles triumphantly and tugs gently on his arm, clearly trying to rewind back to minutes ago when they were relaxing by the bar. But a small shred of anxiety is still in Magnus’ chest, so he has to be sure. 

“Hang on.” 

He weaves through the crowd, searching among the sea of bodies for his head security girl. She shouldn’t be this difficult to spot, considering she has a mass of platinum white curls that should stand out clearly through the masses. But she’s nowhere to be found. He circles the area where she was assigned once, twice, three times, until he feels someone catching at his shoulder. 

He turns around and is met with the sight of the platinum white curls, but they’re limp and clinging to the vampire’s face, which has angry red burns tearing across her pale skin from her forehead down to her chin. She’s held in another vampire’s arms, and he’s looking at Magnus with wide eyed fear. 

“How did this happen?” He demands, stepping forward and effectively trapping Magnus against the wall. “I went looking for her and I found her outside, drenched in holy water. Who did this? How could you let this happen?”

“I don’t know who did this, but I’m going to find out.” Magnus replies calmly, hands raised in what he hopes is a placating enough manner that the terrified boy will step back a bit. “I have something that can help with the burns, alright? Your friend is going to be just fine. How long ago did this happen?”

“Few minutes ago.” The boy mumbles. “Just after the flash.” 

Magnus knows that the intruder did not bring down the wards and debilitate his security for nothing. He needs to find out who came in, why they did it, and if they’re still in the loft. And he needs to find out quickly. 

“Listen,” he tells the boy firmly, “there’s a room down the hall to your left. The door is locked, but the key is on top of the door frame. Unlock it and put your friend there, I’ll come as soon as I can.” 

The vampire nods and takes off, desperately trying to navigate the crowds. Magnus rushes back to Alec, who sits with Jace at the bar, the both of them looking slightly guarded. But not as much as they should be. 

“Someone got through.” Magnus says in lieu of a greeting. “The security guard got holy water dumped on her. We need to find whoever it is, and we need to know what they did.”

“What if they already left?” Alec asks urgently. “What if they did something that we can’t figure out right away?”

“I don’t know, Alec, but we need to try!” Magnus insists. “Find Clary, Izzy, and Simon. Maybe get Raphael, too. We need to spread out, this loft isn’t big but there are people everywhere--”

“Guys.” Jace interrupts with a hysteric note to his voice, his eyes fixed across the room. “The stage. Look at the stage.” 

Magnus and Alec both turn to look, and Magnus feels a flare of frustration when he sees nothing out of the ordinary. No intruder, no signs, no clues. The intruder is clearly practiced in the art of blending in if no one has noticed a misplaced Shadowhunter threading through the crowded space. 

“What, Jace? It’s just Simon’s band.” Alec mutters impatiently. 

“Right.” Jace reaffirms. “Simon’s band. But not Simon.”

“Oh.” Alec breathes after a moment, and it’s silent in the small circle between them for a few moments before Magnus, hands sparking despite his attempts to control the emotions that are coursing through him, boosts himself up to the bar and shoots a burst of magic overhead, which bursts loudly in a spectacularly terrifying ball of light and sparks. The crowd goes silent in seconds, his guests turning to look at him. 

“Everyone out!” Magnus bellows, and a powerful warlock with magic sparking from his hands like erratic lightning bolts is enough to make even the most stubborn guest drop their glasses and surge toward the door. 

“What if they get away?” Alec yells over the sounds of frantic movement and the hollering of the crowd as they try to push through his front door. They must think something terrible is happening, and they’re right. It just doesn’t affect them. 

“So be it.” Magnus spits. “We’ll find them soon enough. Now find Simon.” 

Simon’s going to be fine. Magnus knows this, because he knows about a thing called the Law of Averages. He knows that the amount of times something bad has happened to that kid is astronomical, so statistically things have to even out. He knows that, and he chants that to himself in his head while he combs through the apartment. 

He’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to find him sitting in some room, practicing some song on his guitar, babbling to Magnus about how he’s trying to perfect a certain song before he performs it. 

He’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to be--

“Oh my god.” Magnus chokes out, feeling a wave of nausea upon entering his bedroom.

Simon is there, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the bed. He has his knees drawn tight to his chest, and there’s a sizeable pool of blood between his legs. He looks up when Magnus opens the door, and Magnus shudders at the sight of dark red blood dripping from Simon’s eyes and the corners of his mouth. 

“Simon.” Magnus breathes, hurrying to the spot beside the bed and dropping to his knees. “What happened? How did--how did this happen?” 

“I think--” Simon coughs weakly and another trickle of blood starts down his chin. “I think there was something in my drink. I’m sorry for the--the mess.” 

“God, you’re so--” Magnus laughs helplessly. “You’re apologizing for my floor. While you’re in this state.”

“I’m okay.” Simon protests, putting a shaking hand against the bed. He tries to stand, but his body seems too weak to even allow for minimal movements. His knees buckle beneath him and Magnus manages to catch him before he falls, easing him into a position where he can lay down, his head pillowed by Magnus’ leg. 

“Don’t try to move, alright?” Magnus is trying hard to use his calming healer voice, but his words tremble under the weight of worry. He calls for the others, and waits in tense silence while the footsteps approach. 

“Did everyone leave?” Simon croaks. His eyes are closed now, his face tight with pain that he has yet to mention. 

“Yes?” Magnus can’t believe they’re talking about this. “The wards failed, someone got inside, and we didn’t know where you were. It was more important than the stupid party.” 

“But it’s your--”

“Oh, God. Simon?” Clary’s squeaking voice cuts through the quiet, possibly delirious murmurings from Simon as the group approaches, their faces tight and pale. She joins them on the floor, her hands automatically moving to cradle Simon’s head. He leans in to her touch, his face relaxing just a bit. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know for sure.” Magnus confesses. “But someone came in while the wards were down. They had holy water and they used it on one of my security guards. I think it’s safe to say they put some in Simon’s drink.” 

Jace wordlessly pulls a knife from his belt, turning to exit the room. Alec stops him with a hand tightly gripping his forearm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To find the bastard that did this.” Jace hisses. “And kill them.” 

“Jace, they’re probably long gone.” Isabelle says quietly. “We checked every room. And whoever did it wouldn’t stick around.” 

“Well they couldn’t have gone far!” Jace argues, wrenching his arm out of Alec’s grip. “If we wait too long, they’ll get away.” 

“Jace.” Magnus snaps. “Enough. Running around the city and blindly looking for someone, who, I might add, you’ve never seen, won’t help Simon. I can fix him but I need supplies. Supplies I don’t have.” 

“Please,” Simon says weakly, his eyelids fluttering open briefly, “don’t kill anyone.”

And with that, he passes out. Magnus sighs and gathers Simon up to transfer him to the bed. His patients never get the honor of sleeping in Magnus’ own bed, but Simon is an exception. 

He sends the Shadowhunters around the loft to collect the necessary materials. They’re ranging on the emotional scale pretty severely, from Clary who cannot stop crying for the life of her, to Alec who has his head down and is working quietly, to Jace who seems to have a ball of rage festering within him, his feet stomping against the floor and his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. 

Magnus is struggling to treat this like any other workday. He tries to pretend that Simon is any other patient, just a vampire off the street that he’s healing for Raphael’s sake. 

But Simon is different, and his brain refuses to let him ignore it. While he wipes the blood from Simon’s face and runs a diagnostic spell, his heart aches and aches and the music that Simon was playing less than an hour ago plays in his head on repeat. 

“I can’t believe you.” Magnus huffs under his breath to Simon while he feels his forehead. “You told me to have this party. You said not to live in fear, and look what happens, Simon. I bet you wouldn’t want me to have the party now, huh?”

“No, he would.” Clary’s voice from the doorway silences Magnus before he can continue berating his unconscious patient. “That’s--that’s just how he is.” 

She carefully smoothes the damp washcloth she’d retrieved over Simon’s forehead, then takes one of his hands. She doesn’t make eye contact with Magnus, but he can see what has to be the thousandth tear of the night roll down her cheek. 

“When we were little,” she begins with a quivering voice, “he had tonsillitis on my eleventh birthday. He refused to go to the hospital because he didn’t want to miss my party. And I remember him kicking and screaming--well, not screaming, because of the tonsils--but throwing a fit while his mother and Luke tried to get him into the car. All because of my stupid, pirate-themed birthday party.” 

Magnus is quiet for a moment, watching Clary hold tight to Simon’s hand before telling her, “I’ll fix him. Promise.” 

“Do you know how to?” 

“Yes.” Magnus looks over at the door, where the Lightwoods and Jace hesitantly linger between the room and the hall. They were probably waiting until the moment was over, and Magnus motions them in to signal that it is. “Listen, all the signs point to this being holy water poisoning. They must’ve put a lot in, too, because he’s showing advanced signs really early. We have to be fast.” 

“What do we do?” Jace asks, and Magnus is a bit surprised by the look on Jace’s face. Evidently his anger has melted into something else. Once again he’s blending emotions, this time mixing what seems to be fear and anxiety and something else that’s locked up too tight for Magnus to decipher. 

“To purify a vampire’s blood, they need the blood of their sire.”

“Camille.” Clary says her name like a curse word. 

“Exactly. And as we know, Camille is locked up tight in Alicante under the Clave’s supervision.”

“So we call in some favors.” Jace suggests, but he looks defeated enough that it’s clear that he knows this is nearly impossible. “I bet after our Institute defeated Valentine, they’ll--

“They’ll let a criminal go?” Isabelle finishes in a deadpan. “There has to be another way to get her blood.” 

“There is.” Magnus affirms. “But it won’t be easy. See, the blood of a vampire so...experienced like Camille is very valuable. She’s consumed blood from all around the world, from every species, and she was a clan leader to top it all off. In return for favors, Camille would grant out vials of her blood to be used in potions or, for the less civilized, for getting a euphoric, drug-induced kind of high.”

“And I’m guessing she never gave you any?” Alec murmurs. 

“She did.” Magnus nearly chokes on his own self-loathing. “But I smashed the bottles when she left. I always thought there’d be no use for them.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” Alec tells him softly, and that’s true. Magnus never would’ve imagined feeling so attached to a fledgling of Camille’s creation. Still, he wishes he could turn back the clock and save a vial. How much easier things would be. 

“So these people who own her blood.” Jace interrupts the emotions in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “Who are they?” 

“We’ll have to ask Raphael.”

“Easy.” Alec turns on his heel and briefly departs, coming back only moments later with Raphael at his side. Magnus’ exhausted brain takes a moment to remember the injured vampire in the next room over. Of course Raphael would stay for his clan. And thank God. 

Raphael’s staring at Simon, his expression probably unreadable to everyone in the room besides Magnus. Magnus has known Raphael long enough to know that the barely perceptible lines between his brows indicate concern. And he’s spoken to Raphael on the subject to know that even though he holds a bit of resentment toward Simon for releasing Camille, he doesn’t hate him. He can’t. 

“What is wrong with him?” He asks Magnus, looking squarely at him with a look that seems to urge Magnus to remain calm. It helps, a little. 

“Holy water.” 

Raphael’s eyes spark with a hint of anger. “The Clave is tracking the buying and selling of holy water now that the Accords have been amended. You could find who did it through the records, quite possibly.” 

“How do you know we haven’t already found who did it?” Jace asks with a surprising lack of hostility. 

“Because they’d be in a magic coma on the floor.” Raphael answers with a smirk in Magnus’ direction. Magnus has never been more thankful for Raphael. His calm rationality helps immensely, especially considering he’s experienced the pain of holy water consumption himself, though it had only been one or two drops. 

“Who would be willing to give up Camille’s blood?” 

“You can’t go to anyone who is still loyal to her. They won’t give it up. You can’t go to anyone who’s wronged her, because they may not have it anymore. And you cannot waste time. So you need someone whose loyalty is wavering, who you can convince to give it up.” Raphael explains, and he smiles slightly. “You need Amelia Church.” 

“Can you tell us where to find her?” 

Raphael gives them an address to her home, giving specific instructions the entire time. The Shadowhunters look increasingly uncertain as Raphael describes their target, and they continuously look over at Magnus who merely nods along. He knows Amelia Church through word of mouth, and through meeting her once at a nightclub. He never went back to the nightclub. 

“Remember, Shadowhunters. A single drop of holy water feels like liquid fire spreading through your veins, and it burns away the blood quicker than you can imagine. Every second that you waste is a second that brings Simon closer to death.” 

“Thanks for the advice.” Jace snaps, casting another look at Simon, who remains eerily still despite the inferno that rages through his body. 

“I am merely telling you to keep your timeframe in mind. Amelia Church is not particularly easy to deal with.” Raphael arches an eyebrow at Jace. “No need to get defensive, Wayland. Just hurry. You wouldn’t want to leave things unsaid.” 

//

Jace doesn’t want to leave things unsaid. 

He kept telling himself that the timing was never right, but really he was making pathetic excuses. He knew that Clary merely wanted what was best for Simon, so the excuse that their recent break-up would make things turbulent was invalid. And now he’s waited too long, and Simon could die without ever knowing that his dumb curly hair and absurdly cute songs make Jace think about him constantly. 

He can’t die without knowing. He can’t.

“This is the place?” He double-checks the neatly written address that Raphael gave him and compares it to the brass number beside the apartment door. “Let’s do this.” 

Only moments after ringing the doorbell, the door swings open. Before them, in a gush of bright lighting and the strong scent of strawberries, stands the most colorful vampire Jace has ever seen. 

She has pastel pink hair, pulled up into tiny twin buns on either side of her head. Her makeup consists of blue eyeshadow, purple dustings of glitter, and white liner that traces her eyelids and extends into a curly wing. A white and pink striped dress with puffy short sleeves and a Peter Pan collar falls loosely over her curvy frame and she leans against the doorway, clicking a high-heel against the wood flooring. 

“Shadowhunters,” she breathes, “are you here to court me?” 

“What.” Jace deadpans, and is about to continue to deny that proposal when Isabelle jabs him in the back. He shuts up and lets his sister deal with it. 

“We’re definitely here to talk.” Isabelle promises. “You could help us in a big way. May we come in, Ms. Church?” 

“So polite!” Amelia beams, opening her door wider and leading them into the apartment. Much like her appearance, the apartment is decorated brightly, and the couch that she points at for them to sit on is literally made of shiny, inflatable plastic. Like a pool toy. “And please, just call me Amelia. Or Amy, if you want. Anything works, as long as it doesn’t sound so dreadfully formal. Would you like tea?”

“No, no tea.” Jace says quickly, Raphael’s words echoing in his head. He fixates on a clock that ticks steadily on the far left wall. He promises himself that he and his siblings will be out the front door, with the blood, before the clock can pass five minutes from now. “Thank you, though. Amelia, we need your help.”

“With the war?” She looks apologetic. “Terribly sorry, but I refuse to help in a nasty thing like that.” 

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Isabelle reassures her. “Magnus Bane told us that--”

“Magnus Bane!” Amelia chirps, straightening out. “I love Magnus Bane! Only met him once, and then he couldn’t ever come back to my club. Says he’s got an allergy to the fragrances there. Such a shame, such a shame.” 

Jace clenches his fist. The clock is ticking relentlessly, and Amelia refuses to listen to more than a few words at a time before offering input. Alec glances over, probably feeling the remnants of Jace’s bursts of frustration from their bond. He purses his lips and shifts forward on his seat, clearing his throat. 

“Amelia?” Alec politely intervenes. “I’m sorry to rush you, because I’d love to hear your stories. It’s just that it’s very time-sensitive.” 

Amelia nods her understanding and mimes zipping her lips and tossing the key. Jace relaxes just slightly. Thank God for Alec. 

“Our friend is very sick.” Alec elaborates. “He’s a vampire, too, and he’s been poisoned with holy water. He’s in a lot of pain, and the only way to help him get better is by giving him his sire’s blood. Camille Belcourt’s blood.”

Amelia’s demeanor changes in a matter of seconds. Her eyes shift downward to her pink shag carpet, her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks. “I can’t give you that.”

“You have to.” Jace blurts, then immediately forces himself to soften his words when his siblings shoot him sharp looks. “I mean, you would be helping us more than we can say.”

“I’m sorry, Shadowhunters.” She looks up again and, to her credit, she really does look sorry. Her bottom lip is pushed out into a tiny pout, and her eyes are even glazed enough that Jace thinks she may start crying. “Camille and I dated for three years. She isn’t very nice, I know that. But I’m sentimental, and someone who takes up a part of my life cannot be given away. To strangers, at that. You have to understand. I’d like to help your friend, I would, but I still love Camille. And this is all I have left of her.” 

“But you do have it?” Isabelle presses, and Amelia’s hand flies to her neck. Among a clump of tangled necklaces, she produces one with a tiny silver cylinder. She opens it with a small click and tilts it just enough to show them the ruby red liquid inside. 

It’s so close. Jace could, realistically, reach out and pluck it from her hands. Would she fight back? She’s a vampire, so her speed could beat Jace’s easily. At this point he doesn’t care. At this point he’s willing to take a knife to the gut if it could mean Alec or Isabelle getting the blood to Simon. 

But this girl is looking at him, her head tilted and her eyes sparkling in a way that makes Jace think that her mind can be changed. And so he has to be honest. 

“Amelia. Amy. Our friend, his name is Simon. He was only eighteen when he became a vampire, and his life has been this constant whirlwind of fighting and running and hiding from people. I can’t count the amount of times he’s been in danger, but we’ve always managed to save him. This is the first time I think that we--we may not be able to.” Jace, incredibly, has to wipe hastily at his eyes to keep his vision clear. “It kills me that I can’t protect him. Because if anyone deserves a safe and happy life, it’s Simon Lewis. Please, please help us give him that. Please.” 

The clock hand passes four minutes, and Amelia Church removes the necklace from her neck. She presses it into Jace’s palm and closes his fingers around it, bringing up his hand to plant a kiss on it. 

“I still love Camille,” Amelia whispers, “but she’s gone. If I can keep that from happening to you, I should.” 

Jace breathes a sigh of pure, unharnessed relief. “Thank you. Thank you, Amelia, so much. I promise I’ll repay you for this, I promise.” 

“Jace, let’s go.” Alec grabs his arm and hauls him off the sofa, hastily doling out his gratefulness to Amelia as they hurry to the door. Amelia stands in the doorway, watching them go, and yells into the night after Jace. 

“Tell him when he wakes up!” She calls. And Jace will. He will. 

//

“Hey, there he is.” Magnus’ tense posture relaxes and Jace desperately wants to see exactly what Magnus is seeing. He reigns himself in, holding back so that he doesn’t crowd Simon. 

He can’t see him. But he hears a hoarse, small whimper that makes his chest ache. Raphael had warned that Simon would be in pain even after the treatment, that he’d be off his feet for almost a week. But he’s alive. 

“Hey.” Jace hears Simon’s voice rasp. “Uh, how long have I been--?”

“Not long.” Magnus tells him. “Only a few hours. Of course you’re going right back to sleep after you get your greetings in, because you need rest. But your friends worked fast to get you what you needed.”

“Jace did it, really.” Isabelle pipes up, and Magnus looks back at Jace. He motions for Jace to approach, and he eagerly does so. 

Simon looks up at him with wide eyes, looking soft and angelic in the morning light. Though he’s clearly tired, clearly hurting, he smiles at Jace. “Saving me again, huh? Thanks, Jace.” 

“We’ll give you some time.” Alec declares, and Magnus and Clary both exchange curious looks as they’re wrangled out of the room by Jace’s supportive siblings. Simon seems to sleepy to fully comprehend what’s happening, and Jace hesitates for a moment. Maybe this isn’t the best time. 

But no. He promised Amelia, and he needs to do it now. So he can stop worrying that a freak accident will take away his chance. 

“Simon,” Jace swallows his fear and looks him dead in the eye, “you scared the fuck out of me. I started thinking about you dying, and how much I haven’t said to you, and I need you to know that I like you. Okay? I like you a lot. I like your songs and your personality and that you didn’t even want me to kill who almost killed you.” 

Simon’s exhausted eyes fill with light. It’s so beautiful, to see someone who’d previously been on the brink of death looking so radiant. 

“I like you too.” Simon rasps, reaching over the blankets for Jace’s hand. “And I’m glad I didn’t die before I told you that.”

Jace watches Simon rest his head back against the pillow and close his eyes, definitely past the brink of consciousness. Jace tucks a long curl of brown behind Simon’s ear and smiles again, for what seems like the millionth time since Magnus declared he’d be okay. 

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! talk/leave prompts on tumblr @simonlewhiss


End file.
